"You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."— Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray)

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Tell Me I Can't

Part 4 of 4

Women
in Horror Month: Tell Me I Can’t

By
Stephanie M. Wytovich

My entire life—up until recently—has been about people
telling me that I can’t do something. I can’t go to graduate school because I’m
throwing my money away. I can’t be a writer because I should be having their babies
and thinking about marriage. I shouldn’t be writing horror because I would be
more attractive if I wasn’t killing people for a living. I can’t live on my own
because I won’t be able to survive…

Damn! Talk about a lot of pressure on my vagina and who’s controlling
it…

Needless to say, most—if not all—of those people have ‘ex’
attached to them now, whether they were friend, boyfriend, lover, etc. and oh my God did I just say lover?

Christ, maybe I am a whore?

Ladies don’t like sex!

But hey, maybe I’m not the world’s definition of a lady
then? After all, ladies don’t curse and drink whiskey and speak their mind, and
ask for equal pay. They don’t stand up for their beliefs, have sex because they
want to, decide when they want to get married—IF they want to get married—when
they want to have children--IF they want to have children—or do what makes them
happy despite what society deems proper or not.

No, ladies don’t do that.

Women do that.

And
strong women at that.

So I’d like to take this moment to write some notes to all
the men who told me I can’t, because guess what? Despite all of you, I did.

To the man who told me I was throwing my life away on
education: Hi. My name is Stephanie Wytovich and I have the initials MFA after
my name now. I got my degree while simultaneously writing three books, all of
which have been published, two which have been nominated for awards in my
field. Also, funny story. Remember how you said I should be a nurse because
then I’d actually be able to do something with my life? Well, I became one after all! Meet
Hysteria. She’d like to have a word with you.

﻿

To the man who told me I should be having his children and
taking his name: Hi. Remember me? Yeah, I’m certain that you do. First things
first, the very fact that you said this to me despite knowing my dreams and
aspirations is proof that you didn’t know my spirit or my soul, and therefore had
no chance of implanting your child in me
or forcing your ring on my finger. If I want to get married, I will. If I want
to have children, I will. You just won’t have a part in it.

To the man who told me he would find me more attractive if I
didn’t write horror: Fuck you. You don’t even get a thoughtful response.

To the man who told me I couldn’t survive on my own: Hi.
Remember me? See the one thing you underestimated about me when you called me
damaged, was that damaged people know how to survive. I know this because I
survived you. I may have done it while I was black and blue but I didn’t have
to hit a girl to make myself feel like I was in control.

2015, people.

It’s 2015 and we’re still fucking dealing with this.

Being a woman does not in any way, shape, or form, lessen
you or your ability to do something. Strong women are nothing less than who they
are and who that is just so happens to intimidate weak men. I’m not going to change my life to
fit some man’s misogynistic game plan for me, nor am I going to jump just
because a man says jump. If I don’t want to do something, I’m not going to do
it, but for some reason, men have felt, and
continue to feel, that they can do or say whatever they want in an effort to
control me. This very matter has become a joke between my father and me because
every time I tell him these stories, he looks at me, laughs, and goes, “What
idiots. No one tells my baby girl what to do.”

And they don’t. Well, except for my Dad, but even he’ll tell
you that more often than not, it doesn’t work for him either. And that’s the
thing about my dad. He said he knew I was a fireball the first second he saw
me and instead of trying to put out my flames, he encouraged me to use my voice and my words to empower myself and others. That’s why growing up, he taught me how to write, how to defend myself, how to push myself,
and how to take no prisoners in anything and everything that I did.

He is the man that has always told me I could.

So now that we’re talking about men who I admire and
respect, this is the moment in the month that I’ve been waiting for. I want
to write notes to all the men who told me I
could, and supported me when I did.

To the man who took me out to dinner, gave me advice on
writing and didn’t try to sleep with me after: Hi. Remember me? Of course you
do because we’re still in touch and have acquired and maintained a beautiful
and healthy friendship over the years. Thank you for believing in me, for
encouraging me, and for not only treating me like a woman, but as a colleague as
well.

To two of my convention roommates, both of who are men: Hey
you guys! Ready for Atlanta? I can’t wait to see the two of you! Both you guys have
seen me without makeup, have seen me full on sobbing, and have witnessed me
laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe and almost fell off a couch. You’ve
shared the great moments with me, and helped me sort through the bad, whether
that consisted of a trolley ride in NOLA to the middle of nowhere, or a late
night cemetery walk with hard ciders and a lot of anger, you’ve both been there
through the absinthe, through the awards, through graduation, and the breakups,
and I love you both dearly for that.

To one of my best and dearest friends, who, yes, is a man
and also an author: Hi! It seems like we just talked, but that’s probably
because we just did. Thank you for always treating me with respect, love, and
kindness. It’s a true comfort to know that no matter what is happening in my
life, that you will always have my back, both in publishing, and outside of it.
We might both be doing the same thing with our lives, but it’s beautiful that
it never feels competitive and that we can go out and not talk shop and just be who we really are with each other. See
you soon, and yes, I promise, I’ll read the Larson book, okay? Go drink your
Gwar.

To my first editor: Hi! As if you don’t already have enough
literature and email from me to read—here’s some more! Thank you for taking a
chance on me and believing in me right from the start. It’s an honor to have
worked, and to be working with you, and your unwavering support in both my work
and in myself as an author is exactly what I wish and hope for every woman in
this business.

And finally…

To my mentor of eight years: Hi! What a wild and crazy few
years it’s been, yeah? Thank you for everything, starting all the way back from
day one when I thought I still wanted to become a lawyer. You’ve been my
teacher, my mentor, my friend, and my colleague, and even when you’re not
teaching me, you still are. I hope that one day I'll become half the teacher/writer that you were/are to me.

And that’s it folks! That’s my #WomenInHorrorMonth series. I
hope that you’ve enjoyed it and that it touched on some topics that you
either wanted to talk about but were too afraid to, or that quite frankly, just
needed to be said in general. I had a blast doing this and I want to say thank you to
everyone who’s commented and shared my words/pictures this month. Gender equality is a battle, but it helps when there are people like all of you who help fight for it.

As a female horror author, I stand by this because both
sides of the story need to be shown. Feminism is not an attack on men;
it’s a movement for gender equality across the board.

As a female author, I stand by this because I’m a
professional and deserve to be treated and acknowledged as such.

Behind the Madness

Stephanie M. Wytovich is an American poet, novelist, and essayist. Her
work has been showcased in numerous anthologies such as Gutted:
Beautiful Horror Stories, Shadows Over Main Street: An Anthology of
Small-Town Lovecraftian Terror, Year's Best Hardcore Horror: Volume 2,
The Best Horror of the Year: Volume 8, as well as many others.

Wytovich
is the Poetry Editor for Raw Dog Screaming Press, an adjunct at Western
Connecticut State University and Point Park University, and a mentor
with Crystal Lake Publishing. She is a member of the Science Fiction
Poetry Association, an active member of the Horror Writers Association,
and a graduate of Seton Hill University’s MFA program for Writing
Popular Fiction. Her Bram Stoker Award-winning poetry collection,
Brothel, earned a home with Raw Dog Screaming Press alongside Hysteria:
A Collection of Madness, Mourning Jewelry, An Exorcism of Angels, and
Sheet Music to My Acoustic Nightmare. Her debut novel, The Eighth, is
published with Dark Regions Press.

Follow Wytovich at http://www.stephaniewytovich.com/ and on twitter @SWytovich​.